The words brought a touch of nervousness to the listener. Blake still kept his right hand in his coat pocket. He raised his left hand and nervously twisted the tip of his waxed moustache.
“While Paget was visiting here,” continued the accusing voice, “Wilbur Blake went out one night, alone. He went as far as the garage. There, something happened to him.
“He was overpowered and carried away in his own car. His captors transferred him to another automobile. The man who watched this— namely myself — saw another person enter Blake’s car and return to this house.
“The person who took Blake’s place was — yourself!”
Despite these revelations, the listening man became more calm. He stared at his accuser and said nothing.
“You have one course now,” said his visitor. “Refuse to go through with this business transaction. Then leave this place. Now, before your guests arrive, tell me where Wilbur Blake is.”
“I do not know,” came the sullen reply.
The questioner stared firmly. His sharp eyes, gleaming with a strange light, seemed to detect that Dodge was speaking truly.
“Does Paget know?” he asked.
“Perhaps. I do not know.”